The night air claws at my face like cold fingers as I run, barefoot, into the woods that swallow Pandara Kingdom like a mouth that only spits you out when you're already bones. My breath comes in ragged gasps that taste like metal. Every time my heel slams into a stone hidden in the dark, a new cut opens, but the pain barely registers. Pain is a familiar companion, an almost consoling feeling, a verification of my survival.
I duck under low branches that whip across my cheek, scratching my skin raw. Bits of leaf and dirt stick to the blood on my arms and legs. I must look like something half-dead crawling through the underbrush; maybe I am.
My feet know the path better than my mind does; the same woods where, as a child, my father used to threaten me, "Run, Pearl, if you want. The forest will eat you before you take ten steps." Maybe he was right. Maybe it will. But I'd rather the trees swallow me than watch the stone walls close in on me again.
The wind howls through the branches above me. I hear it whispering things my mother used to say: You are not weak, little moon. You are strong. The storm they don't anticipate is you.
She'd say that while she brushed my hair by the fireplace, her rough hands were so gentle they made my eyes sting. She was the only thing between me and them: my father, my sister, and the Elders who said a wolf like me was a waste of a bloodline.
And they hated her for it. They needed her gone so they could do what they wanted with me. They framed her, spread filthy rumors that she was sleeping with rogues outside the pack borders, that she'd poisoned the old Beta's wine, and that she'd cursed our bloodline to birth weaklings like me.
When they came for her, I screamed and screamed, but mom didn't; it was as if she already expected it. She didn't even beg. She only looked at me through the flames and mouthed, "Run."
The chill brings me back to the present. The slap of wet leaves on my shins, the sting of a fresh scratch across my collarbone, the dull throb in my knees where I fell the first time I tried to climb the outer wall: it all keeps me moving. It tells me I'm not a ghost yet.
Bisca…
A sob bursts out of my chest before I can swallow it down. I feel it rip through my ribs, raw and ugly. I stumble, catch myself on the trunk of an old oak, and suck in the frozen air until my lungs burn.
I squeeze my eyes shut and see her face. The only person who has never called me worthless is Bisca. She was the only person who pushed Kaela aside when she cornered me in the kitchen or gave me an extra piece of meat when she thought no one was watching.
This morning, in the laundry room, steam rising around us like a secret cloak, I grabbed her hand so tightly that my knuckles went white. I told her my plan. My voice trembled, but I said it anyway: I'm leaving, Bisca. I'm going to Vartun Kingdom. I'll hide there, maybe even try for the Alpha King's mate ceremony.
She'd stared at me like I'd grown claws. "Pearl, do you know what they say about the Vartun Alpha? No woman survives a night with him. You're crazy.
Better crazy than dead here, I'd said. I almost laughed. It felt so good to say it out loud.
Don't tell anyone. I'd whispered.
Promise me.
She swallowed hard—gulp—the sound loud in the quiet room, then squeezed my hand back.
"I promise."
I wanted to believe her. I needed to. I wouldn't have anyone without Bisca—not my father or mother, as that man had long since given up that title. I also didn't have my half-sister Kaela, who detested me for reasons I can't even understand.
The wind shifts behind me, making me freeze. Crack!—a branch snaps. Crunch, crunch—heavy boots grind damp leaves into the earth. My stomach twists.
She told them. Bisca told them, and they're here.
Tears slip down my face, warm at first, then cold as the wind turns them to ice on my skin. I bite my knuckles to stop the sob from tearing out of my throat. I want to scream. I want to tear this forest apart with my bare hands. I want to shake Bisca until her lies pour out of her like blood.
I want to run.
I push away from the tree, ignoring the sharp pain that shoots up my shoulder where I slammed into a wall last week when Kaela shoved me aside in the corridor. She had hissed, "Get out of my way, worm."
I run.
The deeper woods close in around me. My breath creates little clouds that drift back into the darkness, perhaps carrying my scent to the hunting wolves behind me. "There is no mercy once a wolf betrays the pack," the Elders have always said. No trial; the only punishment is instant execution by burning at the stake.
The cold seeps through my ripped dress, which was once Kaela's—a castoff silk that was once white but is now gray with sweat, dirt, and old tears. Mother would cover it for me in secret so that I would have a comfortable place to sleep, and she showed me love, which Kaela detested. It wasn't like my mother didn't love her as much as she loved me; up until that night, which I will never forget, our family was a loving one. Our happy home was destroyed, and Kaela and her father were never the same again.
The trees break suddenly, spitting me out into a clearing I know too well, the old orchard, the place Mother used to take me when Father's rage turned the house into a tomb. I used to hide under the old pear tree while she sang lullabies I wasn't supposed to know.
Now, with my chest heaving, I stop there and search for that tree in the moonlit darkness. Then it's there! With its branches twitching like bony fingers at the stars, it was half-rotted, and at its roots, I fell to my knees and pressed my forehead against the coarse bark.
"Mother. I'm trying. I'm so sorry I didn't run when you told me to. I'm so sorry I let them kill you."
Snap!—the sharp crack of a branch jolts through the silence. A low voice follows, giving orders I don't recognize. I force myself to my feet. If I stay here, they'll find me in seconds.
My heart thuds so loudly that it drowns out the wind, the voices, and even the roaring inside my skull as I slip around the old trunk. My feet move instinctively through the marshy patch that soaks the hem of my dress in freezing water and down the slope behind the orchard.
I reach the old stone fence that marks the edge of the kingdom's farmland. Beyond it, a narrow path leads to the old trade road, and if I can just reach the bordering river, I can follow it up to Vartun. It is said that the Alpha King is a monster because no mate can withstand his touch. "Excellent!!!" He might quickly kill me. Or perhaps I'll live long enough to experience what it's like to pick my very own chains.
A howl slices through the night, closer this time, hungry and cruel. I trip over the fence, landing hard on my knees. Blood forms beneath my fingernails as my palms crash into gravel. I pull myself back up.
"Run, little moon." Once more, I heard my mother's voice, which was both gentle and strong. I ignore the stinging pain in my legs and push forward.
I see the road. It's just a thin strip of dirt, but to me it represents freedom; it's broad enough to engulf my past if I put enough distance between myself and it.
I break into the open, my breath tearing my throat raw. I think I can make it.
Then an arrow hisses through the air. It hits the ground with a thud just inches away from my foot. Ahead of me, another one crashes into the tree.
I spin around. The clearing glows with torchlight now, shadows moving in a slow circle, hemming me in.
The captain steps out from behind a thorn bush, his lips curled into a smile that makes my stomach turn. The scar across his brow gleams wet in the torchlight. He used to sneer when he saw me sweeping the kitchen floors. "Alpha's daughter, are you?"
"Look at you, better off as a mutt."
He raises his hand. The hunters behind him stop moving.
"Going somewhere, Pearl?"
I draw in a breath so sharp it cuts my lungs. My fingers curl into fists.
"I refuse to return!"
He chuckles, low and mean. "Oh, you are. And this time, they'll make sure you don't forget your place. Maybe your father will hang you himself. Save us the trouble."
I glance past him. The path is still there, just a few yards away; as the wind changed, I briefly recalled Bisca's laugh: it's sweet, gentle, and as sharp as a blade.
"Did you laugh with them when you told them where I'd run? Did you also whisper it in Kaela's ear as she called you sister and combed your hair?"
My mouth fills with a taste I can't name: grief, rage, betrayal. Everything.
I began to run once more.
I don't remember the blow. One heartbeat, I'm sprinting for the shadows; the next, I'm slammed onto the dirt, my cheek scraping gravel, my ribs screaming. A boot presses into my back. I gasp. With his sour breath against my ear, the captain leans over me.
With a tone that is almost gentle, he says, "Stupid little mutt." "Should've stayed in your cage."
I choked on a sob, but this time it was anger and betrayal rather than fear. The taste of freedom made me feel ecstatic for a moment.
They began to drag me back through the clearing, and the woods were closing around me like a coffin.
Above me, the stars blur as tears spill over my lashes. My mother's face floats behind them, eyes bright even as flames licked her skin.
"One day, little moon. One day, you'll run far enough that they can't find you."
I let the dark swallow me. But deep in my chest, something stubborn flickers—a spark that won't die, no matter how many chains they wrap around my throat.
One day, I'll run again.
And next time, they won't catch me.